“I’m pretty sure you didn’t come by lookin’ for coffee, but I’ve got some made fresh if you want.”
“Sure,” Augusta said, and set her purse down on the counter.
“Half-caf okay?”
“Yeah, fine.”
For a moment, Sadie busied herself with preparing the coffee, and Augusta watched, feeling uncomfortable. This wasn’t her home and she was Sadie’s guest, so she couldn’t really insist on getting her own. Instead, she sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter, inspecting the newly renovated kitchen.
Dressed in shades of indigo and white, the cupboards looked old but new—not quite as cutesy as gingham, but just as down-home. The Sub-Zero fridge was hidden behind dark blue wooden doors and the rest of the appliances were all obscured from view, as though Sadie didn’t want to be reminded of housekeeping duties while in her own home. After working her fingers to the bone for nearly sixty years, Augusta was pretty sure she might develop a similar aversion to kitchen chores. Who could blame her?
She was simply making conversation when she said, “Looks like you’re putting your money to good use, Sadie. Good for you. I’m sure Mother would approve.”
Sadie set a mug of coffee down in front of Augusta—one that read CITADEL MOM—and put her hands on her hips. “I redid this kitchen ten years ago, child. If it looks new, it’s ’cause I just started using it and you ain’t been around. Now what are you doing here? Like I said, I know you didn’t come for coffee.”
Augusta raised both brows, feeling sheepish. “Is it that obvious?”
Sadie’s chin tipped downward. Her black eyes narrowed. “What do you think, eah?”
Augusta sighed and told her about Savannah’s sudden departure. “She’s upset because she knows she hurt your feelings.”
Sadie sat down on the stool beside her with her own mug of coffee, listening quietly. When Augusta was finished, she said, “I’m already over it, Augusta. Truth is, I don’t blame Savannah one bit. We’re all a little emotional these days.”
“How is Queenie holding up?” Augusta asked. “I know she loved Rose.”
“Heartsick over Cody. You know she helped raise that little boy.” She gave Augusta a meaningful look. “I hope they find him . . .”
Alive.
The word hung in the air between them, unspoken. But they both felt it.
Augusta took a sip of her coffee. “Yeah, I know.”
Sadie reached out and touched her hand unexpectedly, her expression sincere. “It’s really good to see you, Augusta. I thought I’d never see the day you’d walk back through my door. I know you don’t like this place. And I’m so sorry for anything Joshua may have said to upset you the other day. You know, he just feels a little rejected by you, but it’s for the best he stays away right now.” That revelation seemed to make her uncomfortable and she withdrew her hand and peered inside her coffee cup, then shook her head, setting it down.
Augusta set her cup down, too. “I don’t think he ever forgave me for moving away,” she acknowledged.
Sadie nodded. “Maybe so, but that boy has plenty of other things to worry about.”
“Like what?”
“A job, for one. He quit—did you know that? He’s no longer with the DA’s office.”
“Why not?”
“Well, you know, originally he resigned because of the upcoming mayoral election on James Island, but I don’t think he’s put his name on the ballot and I don’t think he intends to. He’s been so preoccupied with that house on Tradd Street—holed up in it all day long!”
Augusta’s face screwed up. “Dad’s house?” But it was no longer her dad’s house; it was Josh’s now.
Sadie nodded and reached out to pat her hand again, as though working up her nerve to say something. “Yeah, but that brings me to another point . . . something I’ve been meaning to talk to you girls about. I suppose I’ve been avoiding talking altogether, not so much because I’ve been angry with Savannah, but because it’s time to clear the air and I don’t know where to begin.”
“Oh-oh,” Augusta said, and gave Sadie a lopsided grin. “You stole the silver?”
Sadie didn’t crack a smile. “Child . . . your mama never wanted me to tell you this, but Florence is gone now and I gotta do what’s right, eah? Didn’t you ever wonder why your mama willed the Tradd Street house to Joshua?”
Augusta thought about it a moment, and then shrugged, picking up the coffee cup again. “Not really. You’re family. I thought it was the least you two deserved. In fact, I was pissed that her will doles out your inheritance like a monthly salary. You deserve better than business as usual.”
“Never mind about all that!” Sadie burst out. She patted Augusta’s hand again, looking nervous. “You see . . . it ain’t so simple as that, so I might as well spit it out and get it over with. Robert and I had an affair,” she said quietly. “Joshua is his son.”
Augusta nearly dropped the coffee cup in her hand. “Daddy?”
Sadie nodded.
“Josh is my brother?”
Sadie nodded again, her black eyes looking melancholy. “So many lies!” she exclaimed, and started to weep. She placed her hands to her face while Augusta simply stared, feeling numb. “God forgive me, I wish I could undo it all!”
Sadie continued to sob, uncontrollably, and Augusta couldn’t move, unable to comfort her. Inside, she could feel her façade cracking, the fissures widening by the second. It was all she could do to keep from flipping out. How she maintained her calm, she didn’t know. “I don’t know what to say.”
It was more than simply not knowing what to say.
This was the woman who had raised her, loved her. Based on this new revelation, everything Augusta knew was a lie. Her life sped by all at once, all of it foreign now, with actions and reactions that made no sense. Everything she’d believed she understood about her life, she no longer did.
Josh was her brother.
She’d kissed him once.
Out behind the boathouse.
What if she hadn’t said no?
After another moment, Sadie composed herself. “You don’t have to say anything, Augusta.” Her eyes were red-rimmed now, and Augusta realized they were already swollen, as though she had been crying about this for days. “I’m glad I’m telling you first. That’s why we never wanted you . . . and Josh . . . well, you know.” She dabbed at her eyes and picked up the dish towel, blowing her nose into it.
Something volatile was stirring deep down. Something Augusta was afraid she might not be able to control. But her tone betrayed nothing. “Does Josh know? Did Dad know?”
Sadie blew her nose again. “Yes and yes. I’m pretty sure that’s why Josh isn’t in so much of a hurry to run for mayor anymore. I think he’s furious with me and he’s mad at Robert, and has no desire to follow in his shoes. At least that’s how I think he sees it.”
“Wow,” Augusta said again. Her skin prickled all over. “He hasn’t said a word. How long has he known?”
“I told him the day he ran you off. But it’s something I’ve been struggling with now for a long time. After that fight with Savannah . . . I did a lot of thinking, and I just can’t keep any more secrets. It’s too hard.” She set the dishcloth down.
Probably still numb, Augusta sat and listened to Sadie’s entire confession, somehow holding everything inside. Apparently, her father had been a bigger whoredog than any of them had realized. But even Sadie’s part in the affair wasn’t what was most shocking. They had long ago decided Josh’s father must have been a mistake, someone Sadie didn’t care to talk about, but that Robert Samuel Aldridge II was that man, and that he had actually known about his son, and that her own mother had known about the affair—and Josh—and covered it up, was shocking. What was more, that Sadie would continue to work for Flo—and that Flo would allow it—seemed somehow to raise their family’s dysfunction to biblical proportions.
Augusta guarded her expression, uncertain how to process any of it. The a
mount of information she was downloading made her head spin and her stomach ache. Her hands shook. She brought a trembling hand to her forehead, her thoughts racing, suddenly unstoppable.
Evidently, Sadie had loved Robert, had believed him when he said he loved her, too. But in retrospect, Augusta doubted her dad had even loved himself. He certainly hadn’t loved his children. Or her mother, for that matter!
As she sat there, staring into the now empty coffee cup, she felt, for the first time in her life, a sense of sorrow for her mother.
How truly awful it must have been to walk in her shoes, to have everyone expect you to be bigger than life . . . when in fact, you were feeling small and vulnerable, and everyone in your closest circle was betraying you. Then your son died. And your daughters hated you . . .
“Oh God,” she said, unable to hold it back any longer.
She experienced the greatest desire she’d ever felt to hug her mom in that instant, but Flo was gone. She was buried in a grave in a teak coffin beneath an old oak, in a place where none of her children would ever venture, including her beloved son.
Augusta sat there, focusing on the coffee cup, feeling wired, but not from caffeine.
She had thought to ask Sadie about the photograph of Sam, but she couldn’t bear the thought of fishing it out of her purse now. At the moment, it didn’t seem important. Neither did 99 percent of the fights she’d had with her sisters lately. All of it was pointless. All that really mattered was family, and you couldn’t really know how much they mattered until they were pulled out from under you like a rug. Her ears were ringing and she realized she was holding her breath, about to pass out.
She felt sick.
“I wanted to tell you first,” Sadie offered, her expression mirroring the ache that was growing in Augusta’s breast. “It seemed important.”
Augusta suddenly longed for her mother. It was a keen, aching feeling that took her completely by surprise. She blinked away tears, clutching the empty coffee cup in her hand. Not since before her mother’s death had she shed a single tear. Now they threatened to flow without stop.
Sadie stood up and clutched her shoulder, gripping it hard, as though to keep Augusta grounded in reality. “Oh Augusta!” she said and threw herself into Augusta’s arms, and though the child in her wanted to push her away and run, she held on to Sadie for dear life, sliding her arms around her back and burying her face in her bosom.
The two of them remained that way for what seemed an eternity.
Augusta could hardly find her voice to speak.
“Can you ever forgive me?” Sadie asked.
Augusta nodded but held her tighter when she tried to withdraw, unable to look her in the eyes yet.
Sadie patted her hair lovingly. “We should have told you girls a long time ago,” she lamented. “I wanted to so much, but your mama said no, Augusta. She said she didn’t want to drag you girls through any more drama . . . so we took care of each other and our kids together. Do you understand now why I could never leave?”
Augusta didn’t, but there was no point in saying so. Everyone had to handle their lives their own way, but she wanted to believe that, in their shoes, she would have told everyone to go to hell.
“You okay, child?”
Augusta pulled away suddenly, swallowing hard. “I gotta go,” she said, and grabbed her purse.
“Augusta!” Sadie called after her.
But Augusta was gone.
Ian had never intended to set about becoming a one-man army for justice. When he’d first arrived in Charleston, he’d attempted to ask the police for help but ended up with doors shut in his face, both literally and figuratively. And then Caroline Aldridge came into the picture and suddenly he’d found himself dodging accusations like bullets.
So his decision had been easy.
He’d told Jack everything he knew. He’d explained how Jennifer Williams’s initial charges had come to be, his history with her family, and why he felt so driven to find her—especially now that it seemed she might have fallen prey to a killer. The girl’s father was dead, her mother dependent upon an uncle, who happened to be a deacon in the Church. The uncle had molested Jennifer, using her father’s death as a way to get close to her. Her mother knew and pressed her to keep it quiet so Jennifer had turned to the Church. Unfortunately, under penalty of latae sententiae—automatic excommunication—a priest could not reveal anything learned during confession, even under the threat of his own death or that of others. Later, when Jennifer came to him outside of confession and came on to him, asking for help the only way she knew how, he turned her away, gently, encouraging her to seek counseling with a professional. Angry and confused, she’d accused him of molesting her—all the while the true perpetrator ran around without repercussions. Because Jennifer’s mother had known the entire story from the start, she’d talked sense into Jennifer and the charges were dropped immediately, but Jennifer had run away.
Ian had agreed to go looking for her because, well, he’d felt responsible for not having handled the situation better in the first place. But that wasn’t his only reason. Without Jennifer, it was his word against her mother and her uncle, and he fully intended to bring her uncle to justice if possible. Now that he was no longer affiliated with the Church, there was nothing holding him back—certainly not the Seal of Confession.
But he was at a dead end. Maybe Jack would have better luck. He handed over every last piece of information he had.
Unfortunately, Jennifer’s telephone was a prepaid, and Shaw had already followed that lead, having seized the number from Ian’s phone after the arrest. Although Ian hadn’t heard from her in months, her picture—the one she’d sent him—was still on his phone. But her phone records had revealed little else except that she had not used the cell since April sixth—less than half her credits used with more than six months left to go on her three-hundred-sixty-five-day recharge. It was as though on April sixth, Jennifer had simply disappeared.
They were searching for her car, which was missing as well. Not much to go on, but far more than Ian had uncovered in all the time he’d spent searching for her.
In return, Jack gave him his first helpful piece of information about Jennifer since arriving in Charleston. Jennifer had, in fact, legally changed her name to Jennifer Lee. The records, held at the local level, were public record if you knew exactly where to look and whom to ask. She had, in fact, gotten into a bit of trouble under that name, but because she was now eighteen, her mother was never notified of her arrest. The terms of her release had been negotiated by pro bono attorney Daniel Greene—the same Daniel Greene who was also the estate attorney for the Aldridges.
On the downside, although he had a more complete picture now, Jack warned him against interfering with the investigation and prohibited him from speaking with Greene. As a man who only twenty-four hours before had been at risk of losing his freedom and his neck to the state, he sure as hell wasn’t about to place himself in jeopardy, but at least he knew something more than he had before.
He wasn’t sure he should tell Augusta about any of it. Jack hadn’t given him any classified information per se, but somehow he knew that telling Augusta about Greene could be detrimental to Jack’s investigation, or he would have already told her himself. Augusta would tell Caroline and Caroline had already proven once that her relationship with Jack wasn’t enough to keep critical information out of the papers. Then again, Greene was their family attorney. Maybe they would feel obligated to protect him—or alert him that his name was being bandied about the investigation—particularly since apparently the longtime housekeeper was romantically involved with the guy. That was something Ian knew simply from poking around. Daniel Greene spent a great deal of time at Sadie Childres’s home.
Pitching old and new facts around in his brain, he made his way home, enjoying the sound of his own car engine. “Yeah, baby,” he said, patting the dash, grateful the Acura was still in one piece. All in all, they had taken pretty good care
of the car, and he was suddenly feeling a lot better.
As he headed over the expressway, the phone rang on the seat beside him. Without looking at the number, he picked it up and answered. “Ian.”
“Hi, it’s Augusta.”
She’d been crying.
“Where are you?”
“On the way to your house.”
“Are you alright?”
“No.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Shocked at how much her revelation affected him, Ian hung up and punched the gas.
Chapter 15
Like Charleston’s estuaries, the meandering back roads in James Island’s Secessionville Creek area wound in and out of neighborhoods, seemingly devoid of any organizing principle. There were only two outlets spilling directly onto Folly Beach Road.
As upset as Augusta was, she made a few wrong turns. It was only after making the second that she realized she was being followed, though she didn’t recognize the car. As far as she was concerned, a good description of a car was black or red, new or old. Give her a bicycle and she could probably tell you the model and approximate year, but cars were not her forte.
After Sadie’s bombshell revelations, instinct drove her straight to Ian’s house instead of home. The construction crew was working outside today and Luke had a key besides, so she didn’t have to worry about locking up, and the last thing she wanted to do was to walk into a worksite full of strange men, sobbing like a child—particularly since Savannah wasn’t even home and Caroline would be there any minute. Until she gathered her thoughts, her sister Caroline was the last person she wished to see. She had no clue how to feel about anything right now, but she couldn’t deal with more drama. The only thing that seemed certain was that Ian always managed to make her feel better. He had an easy way about him that helped her forget everything except the moment they were occupying. Somehow, despite his own tribulations, he seemed able to put aside anxiety and anger—like The Dude, she thought. In fact, he looked a little like a young Jeff Bridges, she mused, as she pulled up in front of his house.
Tell No Lies Page 17